


two slow dancers

by glimbows



Series: glimbow week 2020 [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/M, Glimbow Week 2020, M/M, i had to write glimmer and bow's dance at her coronation ball, mitski throttled me with her music so naturally, very proud of this!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimbows/pseuds/glimbows
Summary: Initially, Glimmer gave him a light hit on the chest instead of accepting his offer. It’s when he explains to her how excited he was to explain his new tech to the head of the Etherian Makers Community that she softens, allowing their fingers to twine.Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lance and Castaspella beam in each other’s faces.or,Glimmer endures dancing with unnamed princes, watching flowers grow, inedible sweets, and some advice from George- all at her coronation ball.(for the glimbow week prompt "family reactions.")
Relationships: Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), George/Lance (She-Ra), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: glimbow week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909897
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: Glimbow Week 2020





	two slow dancers

**Author's Note:**

> for the glimbow week prompt "family reactions." 
> 
> and for anyone else who was very mad we never got to see glimmer's coronation afterparty, 
> 
> title (and all around aesthetic) from mitski's "two slow dancers"

Glimmer stands with a champagne flute in her hand, busy wondering how the dignitary currently talking her ear off would react if she suddenly downed the entire thing. 

His lips are moving, but there’s only static. She decides not even throwing the drink at him would faze him now. 

Across the courtyard, the Princess Alliance table is in chaos over what appears to be Sea Hawk choking on the olive from his cocktail. After being frozen by Frosta earlier in the evening, the Queen thinks his day may almost be as unfortunate as hers. 

_ Almost.  _

At least he’s lucky enough to be stuck with Adora, who has jumped out of her assigned seat to attempt to give him the heimlich. Mermista sits right next to them, nonplussed as always, save for a casual pat to the sailor’s wrist. 

How she wishes she could be in some sudden, mortal danger right now. But no, she’s stuck here instead, locked in a one-sided conversation with a man from a kingdom she’s not even sure exists at this point. 

Maybe after another sip of champagne, it won’t. 

Maybe, by the end of this endless night, if she’s as lucky as Sea Hawk, she won’t be able to tell the gold flecks in her drink from the fairy-twinkle lights draped around the palace.

“- Don’t you agree, your majesty?” Her headache asks. 

Glimmer looks down at her glass, still half-full. 

“Please excuse me. I’m rather parched from all this talking I’ve been doing.”    
  


* * *

The table had cleared out in the time it took her to escape the dignitary. All that’s left of the scuffle beforehand is a wrinkled tablecloth, a few splotches of spilled alcohol, and a fork in a bowl of pudding. 

Glimmer shakes her head as she steals Adora’s champagne flute from the place setting beside hers. At her other side is Bow. Or, where Bow would be if they were all still eating. 

She wishes they’d waited for her, the whole lot of them, before running wild around the party. 

At least they had half a brain to throw away the olive. 

If her Aunt Castaspella saw this mess, she would no doubt throw a fit. After hours of meticulous party planning, of trying to seat the alliance members in such a way that the least chaos possible would erupt, it appears her plan had still failed. 

And if her mother was here, there wouldn’t be need for any of this at all.

* * *

Her first dance as queen is with some prince who won’t stop name dropping Sweet Bee. Sweet Bee, who couldn’t be bothered to make it tonight. 

It’s not that Glimmer really, truly minds. The less people she has to talk to, the better. But she wants it on the record that the prince approached her first, not the other way around. 

At least he has guts. 

He keeps knocking his feet into hers, though. And the song the band is playing makes her want to fall asleep. 

Even though she isn’t as haywire about tradition as some of her advisors, Glimmer can’t help but feel like there’s something so unceremonious about it all. Like she’s wasted some kind of grand moment on this random guy. 

By the time he’s bowed to her, she’s already forgotten his name.

* * *

It isn’t long before some other annoying Etherian community big-wig tries to get her attention. 

Knowing that it isn’t possible to have the coveted thing known as  _ alone time  _ during her big night, Glimmer decides to take refuge with her aunt for the time being. It’s not like Castaspella can possibly be worse company than anyone she’s already had to deal with, right? 

Well, it appears she’s miscalculated. 

“Glimmer, I truly believe I’ve outdone myself this time,” the sorceress beams as she gestures to the flowers in the centerpiece that were definitely made by Perfuma. “Just you wait, my dear. I’m going to plan every party of yours for the rest of time.” 

_ Thank the stars I’m near immortal, _ she thinks. 

To her aunt’s side sit Bow’s dads, who are obviously excited, but in a subdued way that the Queen appreciates. They’ve been a beacon of gentle smiles and sweet thumbs up for her the entire evening. It’s as if they understand that, even though this is a celebration in honor of her, it’s not necessarily a celebration _ for _ her. 

She nods softly to them, suddenly very conscious of the full glass of alcohol in her fist. Castaspella drones on. 

“And while I’m very happy with how the custom cake toppers came out, I do have to admit I’m a little disappointed we couldn’t get the doves display to work. What do you think, darling? Should we have a doves do-over at your birthday party?” 

“We should focus on getting through this party first,” 

“Oh, silly me!” She only half-answers. “Yes, Glimmer, you’re totally right — doves are much more fit for other events, like  _ weddings _ .” 

The word falls from between her aunt’s black-painted lips in slow motion. Glimmer feels as if she’s stuck on a train track with a locomotive charging towards her at full speed.

“Auntie,” 

It collides with her, Castaspella’s squeal the whistle of the boiler as she hits 100mph. “A wedding! Oh, Glimmer, forget birthdays! We need to get you married this instant so I can break out a cake four tiers higher than the one you had tonight!” 

“I just got crowned Queen three hours ago and you’re already trying to marry me off?” 

Ugh. Even the exasperated rise of her voice reminds her of Angella. But to be fair, they did quarrel a hell of a lot. 

_ Used to _ quarrel.

That can’t be all she has to remember her by. Arguments, tea, and twin ice sculptures. 

The sorceress laughs gleefully, paying no mind to her niece’s frustration. Glimmer notes the multiple empty glasses beside her, and considers once again downing her own. 

“But there are plenty of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes out there, dear! I mean,” She makes a gesture to her side, which might as well just be her way of throwing Glimmer back onto the train tracks. “I’ve been talking with Greg and Lance here all evening! Did you know they have thirteen strapping boys? Thirteen!”

“Auntie!” 

With another chortle, it becomes obvious that the implications have flown by her (so much for those socks she knit for strapping boy number thirteen). “Greg” clears his throat and throws the Queen a life ring. 

“We’re very proud of you, Glimmer,” He says as if she’s their own. “And so is Bow.” 

"Bow!” Casta drawls. “What a lovely boy! Where has he run off to?” 

Glimmer shakes her head as the woman twists in her seat. If she knew where he was, that’s where she would be. 

Not because she wants to marry him, though, which wasn’t even directly insinuated so she doesn’t know why she’s thinking about it. 

She’s never really thought about it,  _ it _ being love and marriage and babies and such, before. And now, as the slight twinge in her stomach reminds her, isn’t time to start. There’s a crown on her head and a kingdom’s fate in her hands. 

But it gnaws at her, the fact that she used to play “commander” instead of “house”. If she wasn’t an instrument of war, would she be some lovable thing? Or is it just nature’s intention for her to be made of steel? 

“I don’t know where he is,” 

There’s a phantom space at her side. She ignores it, along with every other nagging, longing thought. 

“Well, he’s around here somewhere!” Lance claps. “He was so excited for this, you know. Not for any reason other than celebrating you,” 

“But even then, he doesn’t need a big party to do that.” 

“True, true. With the way he talks, you’d think every day was a coronation day with you, Glimmer!”

The two men laugh, noticing stars in her eyes that she can’t see. She joins in at the end, a drizzly, nervous sound. 

“I hope it doesn’t feel too strange to be here after disconnecting yourself from the royals for so long. I-Is everything okay?”

She gives a vague gesture to the scene around them. As overzealous as she was, her Aunt Casta had really done a beautiful job decorating the courtyard for the afterparty portion of the coronation. It even made Glimmer, who had grown up with the whimsy of Bright Moon, feel as if she were in a fairy tale. 

If only she were the princess in said story. 

George moves his hand from overtop his husband’s to give her arm a fatherly pat. Lance squeals something about her “already taking her duties so seriously”, but the magnitude of such a simple gesture reels her in far more. 

_ Thirteen kids _ , she reminds herself. They know how to handle these things. Meaning they know how to handle her who, at her core, is just a child craving the familiarity of her mother’s breast.  George’s small smile conveys the obvious: he knows he doesn’t have the means to offer her such, but maybe they can pretend. 

“It’s an honor to be here, Glimmer.” He says. “And it’s an honor to fight for your cause. I can think of no one better to lead the rebellion.” 

Lance moves to occupy Castaspella. Glimmer moves to thank George, but he gently halts her with a raise of his hand, leaving her lips parted in confusion. 

“May I offer you some advice? As a… family member? I see you as part of my family.” 

She nods, using the bob of her head to hide the sheer amount of force it takes to swallow down the lump in her throat. 

It’s a gesture she’s been mastering since she had to sit in on the meeting detailing how Bright Moon would operate in the interim before her coronation, right after Angella had flown into that goddamn portal. 

“Of course.” 

He offers her a smile, one with wisdom in the creases of the ends of his mouth. Glimmer doesn’t know if the band has stopped playing or if the planet has stopped spinning. 

Either way, she feels the most awake she’s felt all night. 

“Don’t forget to be Glimmer.” He begins. “You have a strong, capable mind of your own under that tiara. I know this is all as new as it possibly can be right now, but from the start, I want you to remember that there are people who believe in you. And that includes your bright ideas, and your grief, and your joy. Allow yourself to feel it all.” 

The stars in her eyes begin to gleam with tears. With each word he says, it grows harder for the Queen to quell the lump in her throat. What he says lets her know that it would be okay if she began to cry, but she can’t bring herself to do so. 

How was Bow’s family so good at this? 

At feelings. At  _ feeling _ . At love. 

Stars, her and Angella would have had to have yelled at each other for at least ten minutes before reaching such a level of vulnerability, a vulnerability George had instilled in her with just a touch of her arm. 

“After getting to know you, I can understand why my son loves so much. He does love you, Glimmer.” George clears his throat, careful not to overstep. “And as long as you are true to yourself, you’ll be fine. You’re going to make a great queen,” A spare glance around the courtyard. “You already are.” 

Their eyes land on the ice sculptures, mother and daughter, holding hands. They are dressed the exact same, carved with a mirror serene look on their faces. The earring dangling off her ear almost feels heavier than her circlet. 

“Thank you,” She says through the tightness of her throat. 

For the sake of the beautiful speech he had just made, Glimmer wishes she had any joy at all to feel. 

“Excuse me,” 

* * *

She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to make eye contact with George ever again after bustling off like she did.

There’s nowhere for her to really go, either. There’s no such thing as privacy, as serenity, as a genuine good fucking time at this funeral disguised as a party.

Glimmer busies herself discussing the cycles of moon-lilys with Perfuma, the only friend of hers she’s been able to catch, off to the side of the courtyard near the garden. 

The Plumerian princess plays a fun game with a few of the guests accompanying them, picking petals from the flowers to predict small fortunes. They are all hyper-focused on her and the way her dainty hands move.

_ He does love you, Glimmer. _

Perfuma picks at the petals, singing a simple tune. The Queen follows along in her head, watching white, crescent-shaped remains dust the grass beneath them.

_ He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not. _   
  


* * *

Of course he loves her. They’ve said I love you a hundred thousand times, simple as pie. 

Glimmer takes a bite of some miniature dessert, courtesy of Frosta, from the Kingdom of Snows. It’s far too minty on her tongue, but she gives the younger girl a nod of approval nonetheless. 

Of course Bow loves her, but in what way?

Is it strictly an _ “I’ll shoot arrows with personalized letters through your window after I know you’ve fought with your mom”  _ kind of love? An  _ “I’ll carry you up to bed when I know you’re too weak to teleport” _ kind of love? An  _ “I trust you, you know I always trust you, even when I know you’re wrong” _ kind of love?

Or is it something more than that?

Gods damn her Aunt Casta and that stupid wedding talk. Why does she even care? She hasn’t cared for years, so why should she care now?

As Frosta turns to offer the platter to another group of guests, Glimmer turns to steal one of Adora’s before she can shove it in her mouth. 

She eats one whole, hoping the sickeningly strong mint sensation will freeze her brain.

* * *

The Princess Alliance table is empty again, save for Sea Hawk and Mermista, who have gone from choking on hors d'oeuvres to sitting so close that Glimmer can’t tell if they’re kissing or not. The thought makes her stomach churn.

It’s well past midnight now. Some of the guests have started to wind down, inducing a lazy atmosphere that does little for the Queen’s general exhaustion. Those still on the dance floor shamble around like puppets. 

Once again, she finds herself slumped in a chair at the “grown ups” table. 

Her eyes are downcast, both because she feels she’s about to fall asleep and because George, Lance, and her Aunt Casta are locked in a quiet conversation. She would much rather focus on how the ceramic plates feel under her nail than anything else, anyway. 

It’s something she used to do at balls when she was a kid, a cranky bugger of a princess fed up with sitting up straight that just wanted to be sent to bed. 

Pink pupils drift to her aunt. Her aunt, who could yell at her to sit up straight, but never in the annoying way her mother used to.

This is no way for a queen to act. Shoulders weighed down by phantom wings heave as she sighs, prepared to fix her posture. Before she can do a push up against the table, palms planted on either side of the place setting, Lance pipes up. 

“Your majesty,” 

She looks up to see four smiling faces. The adults are huddled together like they’re an audience of five-year-olds watching a newborn kitten play with a ball of yarn, and beside them is… 

“We found him.”

Bow, for the first time since dinner, with his hand outstretched. 

* * *

For her final dance of the night, she walks out onto the ballroom floor hand in hand with Bow. 

Initially, Glimmer gave him a light hit on the chest instead of accepting his offer. It’s when he explains to her how excited he was to explain his new tech to the head of the Etherian Makers Community that she softens, allowing their fingers to twine. 

The way his smile splits across his face when he talks about what he loves makes it impossible to say no. 

She swears that, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lance and Castaspella beam in each other’s faces.

They’ve done this all a hundred times before. Before she would throw her goodnight fits at her mother’s parties, her and Bow would spend the entire night together. There was rarely a time when he wasn’t her plus one, dressed in a way that complemented everything about her. 

From there, they’d hide underneath tables, raid buffet tables, and yank each other around the dancefloor like rag dolls, snickering the whole way. 

The music begins to swell with each step they take. Also swelling is the grief in her chest, up further into her throat as she mourns not only Angella, but the troublemaking little princess that would stuff sweets into Bow’s pockets for post-party sleepovers. 

He wraps an arm around her waist, and all at once, it’s nothing like those other times.

“What did I miss, your majesty?”

An exhausting conversation with a random dignitary. 

The most underwhelming first dance in history. 

Castaspella’s mind-numbing wedding talk. 

Perfuma slowly murdering flowers.

Frosta’s awful minty desserts. 

And her, missing him. 

“Not much. Just a lot of talk.” 

The band sees them enter the circle and continues to play what may be the only song left in them: a slow piano beat backed up by a haunting, moony synth. 

Overhead, the fairy-twinkle lights masquerade as the stars they’ll never see outside of projections. Bow is, somehow, not at all tired. And if he is, he’s damn good at hiding it, because by the way he’s moving one would think she’s the only one he’s danced with all night. 

And she is, but there’s no way for her to know that. 

“I hope your party wasn’t too miserable.” He murmurs when he notices the way her eyes peer past his head. 

Glimmer shakes her head and lets out a pathetic sigh, trying to pay attention to the so-simple-they’re-hard steps of the waltz over the roar of emotions welling up within her. 

“It’s been… an adventure.” 

“That’s a very queenly way of saying it was a mess.” 

She giggles purely out of fatigue. That, and his ability to read her. “That’s what I have to get good at, right? I am the Queen of Bright Moon now.” 

“Yeah, you are,” When he feels the title drive a slight gap between them, he pulls her a tiny bit closer. “Queen Glimmer. Queeeeeen Glimmer. _Ka-wee-_ ” 

“Oh, stars, I’m begging. Please don’t start that again,” She hushes him, bowing her head against his chest to hide her blush.

Once her ear rests against his chest, she immediately regrets it. And then she regrets that she regrets it, because she’s never regretted it before. There’s never been anything to regret because every single cuddle pile, every single play fight between has always been so normal. 

The new brushes she uses to maintain her hair, the empty bedroom down the hall, the way her heart speeds up when he holds her so snugly —  It’s one too many changes to bear. 

“But seriously,” He begins again, tone a tad more controlled. “I’m so sorry today was so much for you, Glim. For what it’s worth, you did such an amazing job.” 

“You and Adora helped,” 

“Yeah, but you did all the heavy lifting.” Much to her surprise, he laughs again. She feels it through his suit jacket and leans into the vibrations. “Aw man, when you went and told that guardian monster off? I got chills.” 

If only she could channel some of that courage now. Some of that courage, or some of that old joy, or anything but the grief and confusion and pure exhaustion knotting her stomach up. 

“And your speech? That was even better. I mean, I always knew you were good at raising your voice, but man!” 

“Don’t push it,” She says, a tight smile tugging at her lips. 

“Alright, alright,” A beat. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…” 

And there’s that feeling again, that nauseating “flung on the train tracks” feeling. It wracks her at lightning speed as his words hang in the air, a million possible outcomes suspended between them. 

_ He does love you, Glimmer. _

With his words ringing in her ears, Glimmer finally takes George’s advice, and allows herself to collapse into tears. 

It’s not a burst. It’s not a violent, shaking sob. It’s not a limit finally reached, because she’s crossed more lines than she can count in the last twenty-four hours alone. Instead, it’s a slow, solemn descent into the soft fabric of his suit jacket where she hiccups quietly. 

“Glimmer,” Bow murmurs. He sounds surprised, but not too surprised as he sweeps her into an embrace. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

There’s a reflexive _ ‘I’m fine’ _ poised somewhere on her tongue, so she keeps her mouth clamped closed. The band continues to play, but it’s as if the ballroom has disintegrated entirely. Glimmer knows well enough then to believe the illusion, but it does bring her some semblance of comfort. 

Instead of interrupting her, Bow allows her to soak the front of his jacket. They continue to move, eyes shut, relying on their old back-of-the-hand ballroom dancing knowledge to keep themselves in step. 

Pressed against him, Glimmer swears she feels his heart speed up. 

Or, maybe it’s her own heart pounding in her ears. 

Unable to handle another cruel trick, she looks up, sparkling eyes taking him in. Before she can stand to wax poetic about how handsome (when did Bow get  _ handsome? _ ) he looks in the moonlight, Glimmer musters up the courage left behind from her guardian battling and speech giving to ask one important question. 

“What were you trying to say?” 

“Huh?” 

“A few minutes ago, before I… before?” 

A light flicks on in his head, and he untwines their hands to cup her cheek. 

As if she needed the train hurtling towards her to go any faster. 

“I am so proud of you, Glimmer.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or distraught, but she falls against him anyway, wrapping her arms around his neck tight. Bow responds with the same silent enthusiasm, pulling her as close to him as he can in a fierce embrace. 

Their dance is more of a sway now, a slow back and forth that prompts the band to make the most of their last leg. 

“I’m so honored to be your best friend. Princess, queen, whatever you are to Etheria — you’re always gonna be Glimmer to me, and you're my best friend.” 

It wasn’t that nagging something more.  Instead, it was just that  _ “I’ll hold you in the middle of the otherwise empty dance floor in front of all our friends and family, in front of a couple of hundred strangers, while you cry into my shoulder”  _ kind of love. 

And maybe the hammer of her heart is a fluke brought on by the stress she’s been under. Maybe she’ll be able to get over it and laugh about it in a week. Maybe another glass of champagne will help her realize she’s content being best friends, just like always. 

Maybe it’s enough to be two slow dancers, long past midnight, staying the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so glad the headcanon of glimmer suppressing her feelings for bow throughout season 4 is so widespread. it makes everything that happens during the season much more tragic. 
> 
> if you haven't listened to two slow dancers yet, you definitely should. happy glimbow week, everyone! 
> 
> thank you to my angel @spellbelle for beta-ing. and for showing me mitski. and for being the best. 
> 
> come and find me on tumblr @ gllimbow 💜✨


End file.
